


Misguided Angel

by Dusty



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), But it is really, Dom Crowley (Good Omens), Domestic Discipline, Fluff and Humor, He just needs reassurance really, He's just playing, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Non-Consensual Spanking, Non-Sexual Submission, Platonic BDSM, Spanking, Sub Aziraphale, The Arrangement (Good Omens), Top Crowley (Good Omens), mild spanking, so pure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-05-13 12:34:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19251304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dusty/pseuds/Dusty
Summary: Aziraphale has been helping Crowley with his to-do list, but is getting carried away with demonic miracles, straying far from his comfort zone.‘Even demons need discipline, angel. We can’t just go rogue. Temptations and demonic miracles are carefully measured out. Being demonic does not mean being reckless.’





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> All very fluffy and mild. Aziraphale knows exactly what he's doing...

Aziraphale was trying very hard not to sound petulant. He was unsuccessful. 

‘It was an accident! I didn’t mean to do it!’ he wailed. Crowley double checked the bookshop door was locked and turned on Aziraphale threateningly.

‘Children's scooters are not supposed to have combustion engines, Aziraphale!’ shouted Crowley. ‘And you were supposed to tempt the old lady to slap the rude man at the bus stop, not to burn the entire bus stop down. You are playing with fire!’

‘You told me to go and play with fire!’ whined Aziraphale.  
  
‘It was a metaphor!' Crowley scolded, stepping closer to the guilty-looking angel. 'And you didn’t tell me you went off script. I can’t take credit for demonic work, or explain all the trimmings, if I don’t know what you’ve done, because you lied to me.’  
  
Aziraphale gasped. ‘I didn’t lie!’

‘A lie of omission, Aziraphale. You really are getting yourself into hot water.’  
  
‘I didn’t realise that being demonic had so many rules,’ argued Aziraphale. 

Crowley gave him a severe look. ‘Even demons need discipline, angel. We can’t just go rogue. Temptations and demonic miracles are carefully measured out. Being demonic does not mean being reckless.’

Aziraphale sagged miserably.

Crowley continued. ‘It’s my fault. I haven’t trained you properly. I should have realised you’d get a taste for it. I’ve been remiss in my duties as your handler.’

‘You are not my handler!’ said Aziraphale curtly, crossing the shop in a manner dangerously close to a flounce.  

Crowley caught him by the elbow and turned him back around. ‘Yes I am,’ he said sternly. ‘If you want to continue with our Arrangement and doing the odd temptation for me, then I have to teach you how to not get carried away.’  
  
Aziraphale huffed. ‘It was an accident! It won't happen again.’

‘How do you know? You said you didn’t mean to do it, which means you’re not in control. You’re experiencing new impulses. I was taught how to manage temptations. It can be highly addictive. Lots of demons go too far and have to be re-educated.’

‘Re-educated?’ asked Aziraphale weakly.  
  
‘Walloped, usually,’ said Crowley. 'With fiery lash things.'  
  
Aziraphale tensed. He’d certainly never been walloped before.  
  
Crowley took pity on him. ‘I can help you identify when it’s too much, work out when to walk away. And if you have any little accidents, such as giving a kitten bat wings to scare a naughty child, I can cover for you.’  
  
‘Oh,’ said a sheepish Aziraphale, shuffling his feet. ‘I didn’t know you knew about that one. The child bit me,’ he added quickly.  
  
Crowley put his hands on his hips. ‘Head office were asking why the child, who was enjoying all things occult and wicked, and was supposed to be tempted to disrupt morning assembly at his primary school, had been chastened by a terrifying cat-bat and is now on his best, boring behaviour.’  
  
‘Oops,’ said the angel. ‘I got a bit cross with him, and…’

‘...and?’ ventured Crowley.

‘...slipped?’ suggested Aziraphale, pathetically.

Crowley gave him a devastating glare. The angel squirmed.

Crowley sighed. ‘Well I made up something about a long game and evil plans for the end of term play. Hell seemed to buy it.’

‘Thank you, Crowley,’ Aziraphale said sweetly.  
  
Crowley pointed a finger in the angel’s face. ‘But if you lie to me about what you’ve done, I can’t cover for you. Our head offices will realise things don’t add up, and then we’re both for it. If it comes to light you’ve been doing the bad things, you could be expelled - from heaven! You could fall! I will not let that happen,’ he scolded fiercely.  
  
‘I’m sorry,’ said Aziraphale, quite desperately, feeling wretched.  
  
Crowley collected himself and gave Aziraphale a soft squeeze on the shoulder. ‘I know you are. I get it. It’s difficult to not go that little bit further sometimes. I’ll always understand.’ He stooped a little to be eye to eye with his wayward angel. ‘But if it happens again and you don’t tell me, there will be hell to pay. Is that clear?’  
  
Aziraphale nodded mournfully.

Crowley straightened. ‘Right. Well for now, absolutely no temptations for you.’  
  
‘Oh, but what about the Royal Albert Hall on Tuesday?’

‘No,’ said Crowley, so harshly that Aziraphale flinched.

‘All right,’ said Aziraphale pitifully, looking at the floor. 'I suppose I should be punished.’  
   
‘That’s not punishment, Aziraphale, that’s health and safety. Your punishment is another matter.’  
  
Aziraphale eyes were wide as saucers. Crowley tried to remain firm. He remembered a stuffy old headmaster he’d spent some time tempting once, and held his hands behind his back in what he assumed was an authoritative stance.

It worked. Aziraphale shrunk back. ‘Oh Crowley, please don’t.’  
  
‘Don’t what,’ said Crowley stiffly.  
  
‘You’re going to re-educate me, aren’t you.’

‘Don’t be daft. How can I re-educate you when I haven’t educated you to begin with? Anyway, you’re not a demon.’

‘Not yet,’ muttered Aziraphale.

‘Oh don’t you dare even say it!’ chided Crowley, forgetting his formal facade. ‘Don’t even think it.’ He grabbed the angel’s hand and pulled him towards the back room. ‘I am going to save you, angel, no matter what.’

‘What are you going to do?’ cried Aziraphale, allowing himself to be led.  
  
Crowley sat in a chair, still holding the angel by the hand, but hesitated. He patted his lap, leaving Aziraphale to figure out the implications.

‘Oh Crowley,’ he murmured. ‘Will it hurt?’  
  
‘Well, yes, that’s the point.’ He softened at the angel’s clear misery and continued gently. ‘But that’s not _all_ the point. Also submission, humility, and to help you remember when you’ve gone too far.’  
  
Aziraphale nodded and hung his head.

Crowley placed a warm palm over Aziraphale's still-held hand, and rubbed soothingly. ‘Come on.’  
  
Aziraphale leaned in, so trusting, and Crowley guided him over his lap. ‘That’s better,’ reassured Crowley, rubbing Aziraphale’s back as he trembled a little. ‘You’re my good angel. And you’re going to stay good, aren’t you.’

There was a little noise from Aziraphale that was somewhere between a whine and a snuffle. Crowley took a deep breath and brought his hand down on the seat of the cream trousers. It was a firm smack, but unlikely to sting. Aziraphale squeaked anyway.  
  
Another followed, then another, in fairly quick succession. Aziraphale started to complain about half a dozen in, though he was trying to be good. No one swat was particularly painful but the accumulation was starting to smart. The second half a dozen really did sting, combined as it was with Crowley scolding him To. Not. EVER. Do it. Again. But it then it was all over. Aziraphale sniffed and tried his best to remain still in Crowley's lap.   
  
‘Are you going to remember, angel?’ asked Crowley, his voice low.

‘Yes,’ grumbled Aziraphale. Crowley felt that his friend didn’t seem quite as chastened as he’d expected. But then, he always was a moderately mischievous angel.

‘All right, you. Up,’ ordered the demon, and Aziraphale righted himself. The suit was crinkled and so was the face.  
  
Crowley pointed his finger at Aziraphale again. ‘Now you know what happens when you go behind my back. It will be worse if there's a next time, Aziraphale.’

The angel pouted and nodded.  
  
Crowley couldn’t take it anymore. ‘Oh come here you idiot,’ he said, standing and tugging his angel to his chest. He held him in an intimate embrace. Their wings were still hidden but they could feel the ghost of them wrapping around one another.     
  
‘Thank you,’ breathed Aziraphale into Crowley's chest, finally, the most contented he’d felt in centuries.


	2. Too Many Frivolous Miracles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite Crowley's intervention, Aziraphale is still getting carried away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mild and consensual domestic discipline - non sexual.

Aziraphale has always had a little bit of a problem with controlling his miracles, like too many gears on a bike, or letting there be light in the middle of a dark wood when a human was right there. As much as he was temporarily restricted to only doing good, and not carrying out any temptations, there was still a margin for error that had frequently earned him a glare from Crowley, followed by the demon himself correcting the mistake with a cool precision Aziraphale envied. 

It was getting harder and harder to be precise, thought Aziraphale, now that their sides were less clarified, and after he'd witnessed so many kindnesses from a demon. He couldn't now be sure exactly what was good, and what was _not that bad_. It was a tricky time, he thought. It frightened him a little, if he was honest, so he was eternally grateful for the Arrangement. He knew just who would catch him if he fell. Although, he was most keen to keep the falling part metaphorical. He decided he wouldn't mind testing exactly how strict Crowley could be with him, and so he went for a walk in Soho, hoping for a little mischief to find its way to him. 

Ergo, less than a week after Aziraphale had gotten into big trouble, he found himself once again answering to a furious demon in his own bookshop.

‘Aziraphale,’ said Crowley, sternly, eyes flashing. ‘I want you to tell me exactly what happened.’ He studied the angel intently.  
  
Aziraphale looked at him coyly through his eyelashes. ‘Well, I miracled a gazebo for those poor people who were getting rain on their wedding day, but it caused issues with planning permission and led to a punch up between the ushers and the council. So I enhanced the champagne, in volume and strength, just to relax everyone, which worked a treat. Except it attracted rather more humans than I’d anticipated. And then they put it on the Twitter and even more humans came. Humans attract each other, as you know.'

‘And that’s when you were going to come and tell me?’ The demon was pacing back and forth.

Aziraphale bit his lip. Crowley glowered at him.

‘Um, no. I thought I'd just develop a nice street party to avoid a crush, so I miracled some tables and chairs, and some delightful bunting, and opened the pub next door, and then the sun came out which was lovely, so I thought it worked out nicely and I didn’t think it was important...’

‘Angel,’ warned Crowley. ‘I’ve told you that you have to tell me about any of your frivolous miracles that have gone awry.’

Aziraphale started to fluster. ‘It’s not my fault! No one told me that the pub had been pulled down two years ago. Everyone was surprised to see it.’

Crowley took a very deliberate step towards him and forced eye contact. ‘I’ve had to create a mass-hallucination event and blame it on lead poisoning. Head office were furious.’

Aziraphale frowned. ‘Didn’t they like that? I would have thought it was their sort of fun.’

‘They already had something big in the works with Sandalphon which this buggered up. Months of planning, apparently. I was told to stick to my own division.’

‘Oh.’

‘You should have told me.’ He was looking hard at Aziraphale who was starting to panic.

‘I just did!’

‘You should have told me when it started to go wrong, angel,’ he scolded. ‘Not just as soon as you realised you weren’t going to get away with it.’

Aziraphale squirmed just as he did when God asked him where the flaming sword was.

‘What did I tell you would happen if you disobeyed me again?’

The angel hung his head with a slight whimper.

Crowley was fighting very hard not to find the whole thing endearing. In truth, Hell didn’t care that much, no harm was done, and Heaven were at an away day, so It wasn’t too serious. But it could have been, and Aziraphale knew the protocol.

‘Come here, you wicked little spirit,’ said Crowley with threatening calm.

‘I’m not a wicked spirit!’ whined Aziraphale.

‘Yes you are,’ said Crowley, more severely now, taking Aziraphale by the hand and leading him over to the chair he had been punished in just days ago. Crowley sat down and peered at his friend. Aziraphale hovered nervously next to him, and on seeing the anger in Crowley’s eyes he withdrew his hand from the demon’s grip to instinctively cover his bottom.

Crowley gave him a chiding look. ‘Put your hands on your head,’ he commanded softly.

‘Why?’ croaked Aziraphale.

‘Do as you’re told!’ came the stern reprimand. The angel sheepishly obeyed, fighting a pout, and placing both hands on his head. Crowley put his own hands on Aziraphale’s hips and pulled him in carefully, so he was leaning against his knee. Maintaining a withering glare that was making Aziraphale fidget, Crowley unfastened the cream trousers and began tugging both them and the white boxer shorts half way down the angel’s quivering thighs. His modesty was kept intact by his shirt. Crowley reached around and lifted it up at the back. It revealed a lily white posterior that looked like it had never seen sunlight and was as tender as rose petals.

He gave the perfect buttocks a swat, leaving a pink blemish. ‘I’m very disappointed in you,’ he scolded.

Aziraphale gasped. It was so much worse on a bare bottom.

‘Over my knee,’ instructed Crowley.

Too ashamed and piteous to argue, Aziraphale leaned over the demon’s lap where he was safely and tightly held in place. He tensed nervously, knowing what was coming based on his first spanking, but knowing it would sting so much more now.

‘I’m sorry Crowley!’ he murmured.

Crowley had his hand in the air, ready to bring down. He paused. ‘I know you are,’ he said evenly. He brought his palm down, administering a swift volley of measured swats to the angel’s bottom. He ensured both buttocks were treated equally, and occasionally thwacked across both, which got the biggest reaction out of Aziraphale.

The demon continued to tell him off. ‘You come to me when things go wrong. You come straight to me, Aziraphale! Tell me you understand!’

‘Yes!’ cried Aziraphale, kicking his legs out. 

‘Oi!’ warned Crowley, with a sharp smack. Aziraphale yelped, then made a noise that sounded like a sob. Crowley gave him one last swat. It was no longer than the first spanking, but the angel seemed more remorseful. Must have been the bare bottom, thought Crowley.

‘Okay, angel. Up you get.’

He replaced the Aziraphale’s shirt and helped him up to standing, restoring the underwear and trousers with a little demonic miracle he knew would be appreciated.  

Then he pulled the red faced angel into his lap, the other way up this time, and held him so completely that Aziraphale burrowed into him. The black wings popped up and blanketed them together in a cocoon.

‘I’ve got you,’ soothed Crowley. ‘I’ve always got you.’ He kissed the crown of Aziraphale’s head and the angel cuddled up even more. Crowley loved this part, though he'd definitely never admit it. He felt quite responsible for Aziraphale acting out, and as much as he enjoyed the intimacy their Arrangement afforded, he was secretly hoping the angel wouldn't give him cause to administer a harsher or more creative punishment.  

Aziraphale slumped happily. He supposed relying on a demon to feel safe was extremely strange for an angel. But he decided right then that being strange wasn't so bad after all. And perhaps it was time to give poor Crowley a rest and start behaving again. For now, at least. 

 


End file.
